


Heaving Through Corrupted Lungs

by ourcrimescene



Series: And You Caused It [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Emily-centric, F/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrimescene/pseuds/ourcrimescene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky one. We're setting fire to our insides for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaving Through Corrupted Lungs

He died in his sleep, they tell her.

Cancer, probably.

They lie though. Emily saw them carry his body out in her dreams when the black-eyed man took her on a tour through Dunwall Tower.

A hole was blown through his head.

Suicide or murder, the black-eyed man muses. He fixes her with a stare before disappearing, and Emily wakes up to see the water from the glass by her lavish bed dripping upwards to the ceiling before falling back down.

.

.

.

Emily quietly begins her own investigation into Corvo’s death. He is buried next to her mother in a quiet funeral, a closed casket, she notices.

She has lost first a mother, second a father, and now she is left with very few people she can find herself able to trust.

Callista returns to the tower with her uncle, the head of the Watch, for a visit after the funeral. It has been seven years since Callista functioned as her primary caretaker and tutor back in the Hound Pits.

Emily takes tea with her old tutor, dressing in dark clothes as appropriate for mourning her Lord Protector. Once everything is served, Emily waves away the servants and all accompanying guards to positions out of earshot.

“You’ve grown, my lady.” Callista comments, bowing her head respectfully. Emily leans in, resting her forearms on the white, lace tablecloth.

“I believe Corvo was murdered.” Emily says quietly, watching Callista steadily. Taking a breath, Callista rests her hands in her lap before replying.

“Have you spoken with others about these concerns? I am not really the one to speak to about these matters—“

“They’re all liars. They said he died from cancer. I saw the bullet hole. What cancer causes that?” Emily snaps, mindful to keep her voice low. Callista smiles sadly, in the kind of way that shows that she really believes Emily to still be the ten year old child that she tutored.

Emily suffers silently through the rest of the meal and retires to her room shortly after Callista leaves.

.

.

.

It is the middle of the night when Emily sneaks out of her room, traversing the short distance down the hall to Corvo’s room. It has remained untouched since his death, by her orders.

She eases the door open, mindful to remain silent in order to keep the guards away. Shutting the heavy wooden door behind her, she latches it closed and creeps towards the bed. Just as she expected, a stain on the floor indicates a spattering of blood.

Emily crouches down and reaches under the bed, dragging out the chest Corvo kept his personal items in. She huffs a deep sigh at the sight of a heavy lock keeping it latched clothes, drawing her dressing robe closer around her from the chill.

“Curious?” A deep, raspy voice intones from the window. Emily lurches to her feet, stumbling back several steps. A bulky man in a deep red coat stands at the ajar window, his gloved hands folded casually across his chest.

Daud.

“I thought you were dead.” Emily spits, glaring fiercely at her mother’s murderer. “Corvo told me—“

“You think Corvo always told you the truth? The entire truth of everything?” Daud cocks an eyebrow, remaining entirely still.

“Come to kill me then?” Emily reaches behind her to unlatch the door, ready to call the guards.

“I have been loyally serving you for six years now. I have no intention of harming you.” Daud takes a step forward, withdrawing a key from a pocket. He crouches down, keeping his eyes on Emily and slides the key into the lock on Corvo’s chest. The lock clicks and drops to the floor.

“You have been dead for seven.” Emily replies quietly, warily watching him.

“Why do you think Corvo never advised you to reinstate a Spymaster? Who do you think has kept this city under control?” Daud pushes the chest in her direction with his foot and backs up to the window once more.

Emily crouches down and lifts the lid of the chest, grasping around for Corvo’s gun. Her hand closes around the handle and whips it out, pointing it straight for Daud’s chest. He spreads his arms in submission, watching her.

“Go ahead. But I know you won’t kill me. I’m the only one that will help you.”

“You can’t help me with anything.” Emily snaps, her voice full of cold steel.

“Your friend has shown me the same thing. The one that comes to you in the night.” Daud pauses, clenching his left hand. “Corvo Attano did not die of natural causes, and you know it.”

The barrel of the gun in her hand wavers at the man’s words. “You know who did it?”

“Not yet.” He pauses, flexing his hand. “It would be…easier with the Empress’s assistance and approval.”

“You would help me find who did this? You would help me end them?” Emily asks, beginning to lower her arm pointing the gun at the man.

“If m’lady wishes.” Daud mockingly sweeps an arm in front of him, bowing his head.

She bends down and takes Corvo’s sword from the chest, clenching the switch and spinning the sword as she’d seen Corvo do a thousand times. The blade extends from the hilt, shining in the moonlight. “Can you teach me how to use this?”

“If you wish.” He repeats softly. “You may want to keep Corvo’s items well hidden. There are quite a few…heretical items that you won’t want others to find in your possession.” He turns to leave out the window, pressing a gloved hand to the white, wooden frame.

“Where can I find you?” Emily calls out before he leaves.

“We’ll be in touch.” He replies, glancing over his shoulder at her before he vaults over the window frame. Emily jogs to the window, staring at the steep drop.

She sees a shadow flicker across a rooftop nearly thirty feet away.

Glancing at her reflection in the small mirror the Corvo kept on the ornate dresser, she sees the Outsider standing over her shoulder, smirking with a finger over his lips.

.

.

.

“I hear we have a mutual friend.” Waverly Boyle muses, sipping at her tea. The woman is impeccably dressed as usual, in tight, black pants, a white button shirt with a high, ornate collar, and deep red coat.

“I’m sure we have many mutual friends, Lady Boyle.” Emily replies politely, admiring the other woman. Waverly is resplendent as usual, with her honey-colored hair and blue eyes contrasting with the dark colors of her dress. Waverly stirs her tea with perfectly manicured hands.

“Oh, but I believe our friend is much more dangerous, more cruel, more _exciting_.” The woman says, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Emily narrows her eyes, folding her hands on top each other on the surface of the table. “And how often do you see our friend?”

Waverly chuckles, lifting a hand to examine her fingernails. “Often enough for my taste.” The woman pins her with a sly gaze. “Have you met my niece? She’s around your age. She returned to Dunwall after Esma died.” Waverly pauses, running a finger around the rim of her cup. “I do believe you two would get on quite well.”

“She may come here if she wishes.” Emily replies, leaning back in her chair.

“Oh, but she’s terribly shy. It would be better for you to join us in the manor.” Waverly leans in, fluttering her long eyelashes. “You might even meet some friends.”

.

.

.

Emily sits on her bed deep in the night, fingering through Corvo’s possessions. She had hidden the chest in the closet, continuously keeping it locked throughout the day.

She lifts the mask from the bottom of the chest, staring at it in silence. She remembers very clearly the figure Corvo cut wearing the mask before he retired it. He stopped wearing the mask shortly after she ascended the throne.

Emily runs her fingers over the lenses in the right eye, pressing at a latch that flips them across each other in order to magnify the wearer’s vision. She flips the button, rotating the lenses back around.

Staring contemplatively at the mask, she flips it around and presses it to her face. The lenses are smudged and out of alignment, but it fits well enough.

Taking the mask off, she gently sets it back in the box. She pulls out a strap that she vaguely remember Corvo wearing across his chest. Attached to the leather are five ornaments made of what looks like bone with symbols drawn on them.

Emily reaches out to touch one. As her fingers scrape the bone, it pulses, and she yanks her hand back.

Water drips.

She looks up at the glass of water by the bed and watches a drop rise to the ceiling. Getting to her feet, she takes Corvo’s sword and flips it open, the blade sliding out of the hilt.

“What is a weapon to a god?” The Outsider says, his black eyes piercing through her. “What is an empress to a god?”

“What happened to Corvo? I know he had your mark.” Emily demands, holding the sword out in front of her.

“Now, that wouldn’t be fair.” The Outsider smirks, fixing her with his stare. “You are stepping into a series of events that could send out quite the ripple.”

“Are you going to Mark me?” Emily breathes, her heart in her throat.

“No, not now, but mark my words,” the Outsider fades, and his voice echoes around the room, “you have my attention.”

.

.

.

The Boyle mansion is as lavish as Emily remembers it. She waves the guards that escorted her to the mansion away, and lets herself into the grand foyer. Strains of music drift from an upper floor, and Emily vaguely remembers Lydia Boyle’s passion for music.

Waverly enters the room with a small girl trailing behind her. The girl couldn’t be more than two or three years old, and she has impeccably styled, shoulder-length black hair.

“I’m glad that you could honor us with your presence, Empress.” Waverly recites formally, bowing her head. “My daughter, Viridiana.”

The little girl stares up at Emily with big blue eyes that match her mother’s. The girl looks similar to Waverly, but she seems to have inherited an equal amount of resemblance from the father. Absently, Emily registers that the girl looks to have a certain amount of Serkonan heritage.

“And your niece? Is she here?” Emily inquires politely, dragging her gaze up to the older woman.

“Come, follow me.” Waverly beckons to a maid. “Take Vi to Lydia.” The maid scoops up the little girl and carries her up the grand staircase.

Emily follows Waverly through the winding rooms. “To tell the truth, my niece is studying in the Academy. She will, no doubt, come for a visit at some point, in which you two can be properly acquainted.” Waverly pushes open a door, revealing a large, mostly empty room. “Have fun.”

Emily steps into the room, and Waverly shuts the doors behind her. Daud stands on the other side of the room. He picks up a wooden sword and tosses it at her. Emily reaches for it, and almost catches it, but it clatters to the floor.

“You will catch it from now on.” Daud rasps, picking up a sword of his own.

And so Emily’s lessons in combat begin.

.

.

.

She spends many days at the Boyle manor. Few people question her; the Boyles are a wealthy and powerful family that provide a significant contribution of money to the empire.

On the days that Daud is not there, Waverly provides her with files upon files of information on the life in Dunwall and its people.

Sometimes Daud has her working with the wooden sword, other times he has her on target practice with a wristbow that straps to her arm. Another man called Thomas teaches her on some days, though she never sees his face behind the mask that is customary among Daud’s men.

She learns to throw knives passingly well. She does strength training and conditioning to build up her stamina. Every day at lunch, she eats with Waverly and, on occasion, Lydia.

One day, she sits in the training room, reading a file on a man in the distillery district, Slackjaw. He and his gang were among the only ones that profited from the plague, having sold counterfeit elixirs. Ever since then, they have lost much of their influence, and the crime they inflict has lessened. Vaguely, Emily wonders if Daud has a hand in that too; she understands that he had built up the numbers of his Whalers after their near decimation during the plague.

She hears the deep rumble of Daud’s voice in another room, and she gets to her feet, laying the file down on a table. She eases the door open, peaking out.

Daud and Waverly stand in the grand hallway, speaking too quietly for Emily to pick up any words.

“Daddy!” A child exclaims. Viridiana runs across the tile floor, and Daud crouches down and picks the girl up, a small smile breaking out on the solemn man’s face.

Only then does she realize the striking resemblance between the little girl and her Royal Spymaster. They have the same black hair, the same sloping forehead, the same jawline. Any feature the girl did not inherit from Waverly, she shares with the assassin.

Smiling softly, Emily eases the door shut and returns to her seat to continue her reading. Better to leave the family to themselves.

.

.

.

“Is Daud her father?” Emily asks Waverly over lunch. Waverly pales, clenching her fist in the fine cloth of the napkin.

“Don’t tell anyone.” She hisses, casting a sharp glance to the corner of the room where Vi has her own tea party with her stuffed animals. “If the Abbey knew about her father’s… _condition_ , they’d kill her on the spot.”

“I can keep her safe.” Emily declares, setting her scone down on her plate. Waverly smiles sadly.

“Not even you, not even Corvo could stand up to them.” She drums her fingers on the table.

“Corvo took down Campbell right under their noses—“

“And the overseers invaded the flooded district and killed half of Daud’s men.” Waverly cuts in sharply. “And if they knew that they were still around, they’d do it again.”

“I’m going to name Thomas as the next Lord Protector.” Emily says, running a callused finger around the rim of the teacup.

“Did Daud tell you to do that?”

Emily hums in affirmation. “I wanted to name Daud, but he said it would be better to keep his continued existence quiet for a while longer.” Emily huffs a sigh and leans her face against her hand. “I’d rather not name anyone at all, but Parliament is pressuring me to name someone.” Emily grimaces. “They want me to pick someone from the military, but I don’t like them.”

“No one knows Thomas. As soon as he takes the mask off, he’ll be another nobody from Gristol.” Waverly hesitates. “Parliament won’t like that.”

“And they didn’t like Corvo at first. He was a nobody from Serkonos. At least Thomas is from Gristol.” Emily protests. “And you can support my choice.”

“True. He’s pretty enough to sway them over, I suppose.” Waverly concedes. Vi wanders over to the two and clambers into Waverly’s lap.

“I’ve never seen him without his mask.” Emily comments, breaking off a piece of her scone.

“He’s rather handsome, I’ll admit, in the kind of way where you think he’s beautiful.”

“You like them rugged and dangerous.” Emily smirks. Waverly smiles coyly.

“Of course I do.” She sighs. “He’d be a good father if he wasn’t in the flooded district so often, and I’m not quite comfortable with taking her there.” Waverly adjusts the pins holding her daughter’s hair out of her face.

“Will you ever take her?”

“Oh I suppose. They’ve fixed their territory up quite a bit, and it’s rather fascinating in a morbid kind of way. Especially now that there aren’t so many weepers.”

“There are still people with the plague?” Emily says, shocked.

“Oh, my dear, you need to get out more. Getting the vaccine was rather expensive, and some people preferred to take their chances.” Waverly brushes her hair over her shoulder. “Before Corvo died, he’d been trying to make the vaccine more accessible. Working with the Bottle Street gang and the Whalers.”

Emily taps her fingers on the table. “Do you think that’s why he was killed?”

Waverly shrugs. “You’re better off asking Daud. He pulls the strings in this city.”

“I thought that was my job.” Emily mutters, picking at a blister on a palm.

“My dear Emily, you’re so young that no one took you seriously. Corvo was the real puppet master, with as many strings as he was able to grasp. The High Overseer controls the streets, or at least he thinks he does, and I control the nobility.” Waverly leans in. “I think it’s high time for you to take back the power.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Well you’ve got your attack dog, and you’ve got Lydia and me, of course. All that is left are Geoff Curnow, the overseers, and Parliament.”

“Why didn’t Corvo let me rule?” Emily asks, staring into Vi’s wide blue eyes.

“He was always infatuated with the idea of the little girl you once were.”

Emily runs her hand through her hair, which has been growing longer since Corvo’s death. “I still miss him.”

“Many of us do.”

“He killed your sister, Esma, didn’t he?” Emily mutters.

“He did. In a much less heinous way than I would’ve expected from a man as angry as he was though.”

Emily scoots her chair back and gets to her feet. “I better get back to work.”

“Elomee!” Vi calls, reaching her hands out. Emily’s name is hard to pronounce for the little girl, and Emily smiles.

“She’s cute.” Emily remarks before leaving the room.

She hopes she only imagined the Outsider’s face staring back at her from a mirror.

.

.

.

Emily waits outside of the Parliament chamber dressed all in black. Her hair is pulled into an elegant bun, and she spins her Kaldwin ring around her finger anxiously. She awaits the arrival of Thomas before she enters the chamber to announce her choice of Lord Protector.

Emily looks up at the rooftops and sees Daud’s figure stark against the bright sky. She knows it is him by the deep red of his coat, and she steels herself for Thomas’s arrival. She does not know what to expect, other than that the man she awaits is tall and made of lean muscle.

“My lady.”

Emily snaps her head to her right, and the most beautiful man (Waverly was right, it seems) stands next to her. She recognizes his voice from the training sessions that she has had with him. His hair is a sandy blonde, falling in gentle waves to his jaw, and he has icy blue eyes. His skin is pale, no doubt from its constant cover from the sun by the Whaler uniform.

“Thomas.” Emily nods, drawing herself up to her full height. She is a tall girl, like her mother, and is able to nearly look Daud straight in the eye. Like Corvo, though, Thomas is several inches taller. He cuts a fine figure in dark clothing, no doubt armed to the teeth as an assassin such as him would be.

She remembers the conversation she had with Daud the day before. Daud is giving up his second-in-command of seven years Whaler to aid her cause. Glancing surreptitiously up at Thomas, she notes that he appears significantly younger than she originally assumed.

He holds the door open for her, and Emily puts on her Empress mask. She regally makes her way to the head of the room, taking a seat in her chair. Thomas assumes his position at her right, the customary place for the Lord Protector.

“I introduce you to the new Lord Protector, Thomas Cross.” Emily speaks loudly and clearly, lifting her chin. In truth, Thomas does not have a last name, but for the pretenses of court, they had picked one.

Surprised murmuring erupts around the chamber before one man, Montgomery, stands to speak. “Empress, no disrespect, but we had discussed the appointment of a military officer—“

“I did not discuss this, you did.” Emily cuts in cooly. “I assure you, Thomas is capable.” Montgomery opens his mouth to speak.

“Thomas is from my personal guard.” Waverly says, standing. She twirls her hair around her finger. “He is one of my best, and I offered his services to our Empress.”

All debate had effectively been silenced by the most powerful member of Parliament but for Emily herself. She hazards a glance up toward her stoic Lord Protector, who has his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes scan vigilantly across the chamber. His eyes flick down and meet hers, and a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

Emily heaves a sigh and allows the proceedings of Parliament begin.

.

.

.

She is going over Overseer records and journals at the Boyle mansion. Thomas is absent, having changed into his Whaler uniform to go…do whatever Daud has them do. Flipping absently through the pages, and starting another audiograph recording, she yawns, rubbing at her eyes.

After weeks and weeks of learning to fight and defend herself, along with ruling an empire and reading through files at the Boyle mansion to discover what happened to Corvo, she is exhausted.

She wakes up on a broken patch of ground with mist swirling around her. She licks her lips nervously, and gazes around her. Is this the Void she has heard Corvo speak of in his sleep?

“Emily Kaldwin.” Emily jumps, and the Outsider materializes before her. “You have certainly broken the mold for an empress. Siding with assassin after assassin, pitting yourself against any who would harm you or others, you have certainly undertaken a path that many others would avoid.”

Emily remains silent, staring at the young man as he begins to morph and change figure. She blinks and suddenly it is Corvo standing before her with black pits for eyes. When his mouth opens and begins to speak, it is not his voice, but the Outsider’s that comes out.

“I will make your journey easier for you.” He waves his hand, and she feels a burning sensation on her stomach. “My Mark.” He leans closer to her, smiling. “Let’s see if we can move this along, shall we?” He dissipates from view, and Emily lifts her shirt. Emblazoned just below her belly button, stark against her pale skin, are the black lines that make up the Mark of the Outsider.

Jerking awake, Emily sits up straight, breathing quickly. Glancing around her to make sure no one is in the room, she lifts the hem of her shirt.

She hesitantly touches the Mark, and as her fingers brush it, it pulses. At the sound of footsteps, she yanks down her shirt and grabs the packet of papers she had been reading prior to falling asleep.

The heavy door opens, and Daud and Thomas enter the room. Thomas pulls off his mask, clipping it onto his belt. Daud approaches her and holds an envelope out. Emily takes it and slowly rips it open, keeping her eyes on Daud’s green eyes (so like Corvo, it must be Serkonan.)

Emily scans the paper, feeling her heartbeat quicken the further she gets into the letter. “The Overseers. They killed him.”

“He killed two High Overseers, flaunted the Mark of the Outsider, and attempted to win over the people by distributing the vaccine.” Daud says, crossing his arms across his chest.

“They want more power, don’t they?” Emily breathes.

“They also aren’t happy about Thomas’s appointment. They suspect he is involved with the Outsider.” Daud’s eyes flick to Thomas.

“Isn’t he?”

“Not quite. I’ve never seen or heard him.” Thomas speaks clearly, his voice smooth and appealing. Emily bites her lip.

“I can give a shadow of my powers to my men.” Daud states. “What do you want done about the Overseers?”

Emily opens her mouth but is cut off by a high, child-like squeal. Viridiana, who grows bigger by the week, jogs into the room. She sees a semblance of wariness flicker across Daud’s face, and Emily stands and approaches the girl, lifting her off the ground.

“Where’s your mom?” Emily asks, letting the girl clutch at her shoulders and neck, though Vi has eyes only for her father.

“Upstairs with Aunt Lydia.” She answers quietly, squirming in Emily’s arms.

“Let’s go find her.” Emily murmurs, leaving the room. “You two are dismissed. We will continue this discussion tomorrow.” She calls back to the men in her Empress voice.

.

.

.

Emily is padding down the hallway towards her bedroom late at night with a cup of warm tea when she hears a yell from the Lord Protector’s chambers. Her cup clattering to the floor, forgotten, she rushes to throw the door open. One figure has Thomas on the ground with his face pressed against the floor, while the other points a gun at his head.

With a wordless cry, Emily throws her hand forward, and a blast of wind explodes from her hand, knocking the two men back a couple steps. She clenches her hand and reappears behind one, ripping a knife from the man’s hip and cutting his throat.

As the figure drops, blood flowing out of the wound, she sees Thomas has already disposed of the second figure and is staring at her with narrowed eyes.

“Let me see it.” He says quietly. Emily clenches her teeth together, letting the knife clatter to the floor. Thomas crosses to the door and slams it closed, latching the lock into place. “There is no way Daud granted you with his powers.”

With a stuttering breath, Emily lifts her left hand, flipping it over. “Empty.” She breathes. She remembers Corvo having the mark on his hand, and if her assumption is correct, Daud also has his in the same place.

“Show it to me.” Thomas repeats, taking a step towards her. Emily swallows nervously, stumbling back until she hits the window. His eyes flick over her shoulder, and his eyes widen. “Get down!” He yells, flickering out of existence before reappearing at her side and pressing her down. The glass shatters from the force of a bullet hitting it. He covers her body with his, the glass raining down in front of her face.

Her heart thunders in her ears, her hands trembling. Blood pools on the floor in front of her from the previous assailants, and she feels more than she sees Thomas stir above her. His hand presses into her hip as he lifts himself to his feet, peering over the windowsill.

“Hold still.” He breathes, reaching over her to take a pistol from the body mere feet from her. She shuts her eyes and attempts to focus on breathing, but the presence of his body touching hers in an array of places has her heart stuttering.

Her eyes snap open when a gun fires, and she can hear the distant sound of a body hitting the ground. Only then does she register furious pounding on the door.

“How many?” Thomas asks, moving away from her. “You can pretend you aren’t Marked, but it would be really useful for you to look through and see how many people are standing there.”

“I don’t—“ He pins her with a piercing look, his light eyes making it all the more intimidating. Pressing her palms against the floor to lift herself up, she squints at the door. Her Mark flares to life, and she can suddenly count the silhouettes through the walls. “Five, I think? They look like guards, though.”

Thomas grunts, strapping his wristbow to his forearm and clipping his sword to his belt. He draws the sword and gestures with it to the bed. “Get under it, and don’t come out until I tell you to.”

Nodding, Emily drags herself the short distance across the floor to the bed, sliding under it. Glass shards catch and drag on any exposed skin, and she hisses. From beneath the bed, she watches Thomas unlatch the lock and throw the door open, sword drawn and gun pointed.

“The Empress—“ She recognizes Geoff Curnow’s voice.

“Is safe.” Thomas replies shortly, his weight balanced partially on the balls of his feet, a technique she had learned from Daud that enabled her to react more quickly.

“We must see her to confirm—“

“Curnow, stay. Everyone else, leave.” Thomas’s voice is pure ice. There is a brief pause before his orders are followed, until the only people remaining are she, Thomas, and Geoff. Emily shuffles out from under the bed, clearing it and scrambling to her feet. Wincing, she lifts her arm to pick out a piece of glass.

Her Lord Protector is at her side in an instant, guiding her to sit on the bed. “Geoff,” Emily stutters in a shaking voice, “take your most trusted men and search the tower.” She takes a steadying breath to calm her nerves while Thomas nudges the pieces of glass out of her skin.

“You cannot stay here, my lady. It isn’t safe.” Geoff speaks, staring at her worriedly. Emily clasps her hands together, staring at her knees. She knows to trust Geoff—he had always been one of Corvo’s closest associates.

“Make sure everyone is accounted for and any extras are dealt with.” Emily orders in a falsely confident voice. “I will retreat somewhere safe for the time being with Thomas.” Thomas falters as he removes the glass, stiffening.

“Yes, my lady.” Geoff retreats from the room to carry out her orders.

“Take me to the Flooded District.” Emily says. “Alert Daud of what happened in the quickest possible manner.”

“The Flooded District is not the most…proper place for an empress.” Thomas mutters, running an appraising hand up the length of her arm, up her neck, and over her jaw. Emily stifles a shiver at his touch.

“They were hired by the Overseers. I know it.” Emily says, getting to her feet. “It’s time to end this.”

.

.

.

Emily rifles through her bedroom, finding clothes to change into. Thomas stands guard at her door, having pulled on his Whaler clothes at her command. His mask is clipped onto his belt. Taking a key from beneath her mattress, she unlocks the closet that she keeps Corvo’s chest in. Emily bodily drags it out, snapping it open. She takes his sword, the leather strap with the bone charms on it, and his mask.

“Watch the door.” Emily snaps, pulling dark pants, dark leather boots, a white buttoned shirt, and a black coat from her wardrobe. Appraising the man in the room, she swallows and pulls her nightclothes off. His eyes snap to the mark on her abdomen as soon as it is revealed.

“I knew it.” He breathes. Emily feels his gaze on her as she fumbles with the buttons on her shirt. Finally, she is dressed, and she buckles on the bone charms under her coat. She belts on the sword and gun.

“I don’t have a wrist bow.” She mutters to herself.

“We have plenty in the Flooded District.” Thomas states, picking Corvo’s mask up off the bed. “Does this fit you?”

“I took it to Dr. Joplin and had him modify it some.” She replies, clipping it to her belt. She pulls her hood up over her head.

“Put it on after we get out of the Tower. Follow me, and stay close.” Thomas trails his fingers across her hand before turning to leave the room. They take servant stairwells down, and at one point, Thomas pulls aside a maid. The two speak rapidly in lowered voices before the maid hurries off.

“She works for Daud.” Thomas offers for explanation.

Before reaching the bottom floor, he pushes open a window and glances back at her. “Mask on.” She complies, pressing the skull mask to her face. When her vision clears, Thomas already has the Whaler’s mask on. He fades and rematerializes on a rooftop a distance away. Taking a deep breath, Emily follows him, blinking across the gap.

.

.

.

Emily’s muscles ache and black is creeping in on the edges of her visions by the time they make it to the perimeter of the Flooded District. She stumbles to a stop when she lands on a roof, and Thomas is quick to catch her. “Almost there.” He says, his voice muffled by the mask.

She clutches at his shoulders, her muscles slackening. His arm winds around her waist, supporting her weight. The world blurs.

Emily wakes up with a start at the sound of voices. Her eyes snap open, and she presses a hand against the closest surface. Which happens to be a man’s chest.

“Let me down.” Emily mutters, clenching her fingers in Thomas’s shirt.

“As you wish.” He murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest. He gently lets Emily onto the ground on her feet. They stand on the roof of a building, and when Emily looks down off of it, the entirety of the ground is covered in water. Flooded.

“Come with me.” Thomas motions to a bridge leading into the side of another building. Trailing after him, Emily gazes around, noticing the glass eyes of the Whalers watching her.

She follows Thomas through the building until they come upon a set of glass doors. Hunched over his desk stands Daud, his fingers rhythmically tapping on the wood. She pushes open the door, the soft leather of her boots padding across the wooden floor.

Daud lifts his head to look at her and nods at Thomas. The blonde man flickers away, leaving her with her mother’s assassin.

“You look strange with Corvo’s mask.” He finally says, straightening to his full height. Emily pulls it off, clipping it to her belt. “I sent some of my men for Waverly and her daughter.” His voice catches on the last word.

“Good. If they were bold enough to continue their attempt on Thomas even when I caught them, they won’t have any qualms with attacking them.” Emily crosses the room, settling on top of the desk. They remain silent, Daud pacing back and forth across the length of his office, while Emily watches him absently. The silence is interrupted by the entrance of a Whaler, holding a slip of paper.

Daud takes the paper, his eyes scanning it quickly. He glances at Emily. “You have a Mark.” She can hear the capital “M” in his tone.

She sighs. There isn’t much use lying to him, now that Thomas has seen it. “I do.”

“How many know?” Daud takes her left hand, turning it over to examine it.

“You and Thomas. A couple dead attackers.” Emily takes her hand back and lifts the hem of her shirt enough for the harsh black lines to be visible.

“How much do you know how to do?” Daud turns to the wall and scribbles her name on the bottom of a list.

“Enough. Not everything that Corvo could, as far as I know. I haven’t—possessed anyone.”

“Summoned rats?”

Emily cocks an eyebrow. “Summon rats?”

“Stop time?”

“No, not yet.” Emily answers honestly, swinging a foot through the air.

“Sir.” One of Daud’s men appears in the doorway. “Lady Boyle and the girl have arrived. Thomas is bringing them up now.”

She can see the visible relief in Daud’s frame. “Good.” He grunts, and the man leaves.

“How old is she?” Emily asks, pulling up a cracked piece of paint from the desk.

“Three. Four in the spring.” He replies quietly.

“Fugue Feast baby, then?” Emily smirks. Daud either doesn’t hear or chooses not to answer; she assumes the latter.

Minutes later, Waverly enters the room, carrying a sleeping Vi in her arms. Daud crosses the room to her. “Good, take her, she’s getting heavy.” Waverly mutters, handing over Vi to him. “Well, my dear empress, quite the exciting night.”

“It is.” Emily smiles. “Where is Lydia?”

“Oh, Lydia is holding down the fort. She’ll tell anyone who asks that I’ve taken my daughter on a trip outside the city.” Waverly rolls her shoulders and waves to Daud. “Take her to your room. Let her sleep in your bed.”

Emily finds it ironic that the great assassin Daud, second only to Corvo Attano, is easily ordered about by a noblewoman and a three year old girl. Emily covers her smile with her hand until he leaves up the stairs.

“Oh I do hope she doesn’t wake up. It was such a nightmare keeping her quiet on the ride here. The rocking of the boat is what really put her out.” Waverly purses her lips, eyeing Emily. “And how did you get here? Did your handsome Lord Protector carry you here?”

Emily shrugs. “A short distance, I suppose.” Waverly grins smugly, completely at ease with her surrounding as if she’d been here a thousand times. Perhaps she has, Emily supposes.

“Go stay with Vi.” Daud calls, coming back down the stairs, his eyes on Waverly.

“Must I?” Waverly pouts.

Emily thinks to avert her eyes when Daud traces a hand down the side of Waverly’s face. She doesn’t.

“Yes.” He murmurs softly, his voice taking on a tender edge Emily hasn’t heard before.

“You only do this when you’re going to do something foolish.” Waverly says in defiance.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Waverly hums in annoyance, her eyes flicking to Emily. “Well, if I must.”

Emily turns away from the couple when Waverly pulls Daud in close. She keeps her eyes on the large windows overlooking the main canal until she hears the clicking of Waverly’s shoes retreating.

“Where are they garrisoned?” Emily asks.

“Kingsparrow.” Daud says. “The High Overseer ordered the attack, and he fled Holger Square when he heard of its failure.”

“Is he the only one?” Emily asks, crossing her arms.

“Some others. Old military men that you slighted when you passed them over for Lord Protector. Others that were passably in favor of Burrows.”

“I thought Corvo took care of them.”

“He took care of the leaders, not the followers.”

Emily sighs, turning away from the window to examine the map of Dunwall spread across one of the walls.

“I’ve heard rumors that Havelock is with them.” Daud says. Emily freezes.

“It’s been so long…” She trails off, staring at her feet. After Havelock’s escape from Coldridge shortly before his execution, she had the Watch searching high and low from him with nothing found.

“There’s no clear evidence yet.” He says.

“When do we leave?” Emily asks, turning to face the man.

“Not now.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re dead on your feet. If you’re content with letting my men and me handle this—“

“No. I’m coming. And I don’t need all of you.” Emily vaguely waves in the direction of the majority of the base. “I can sneak in on my own, pick them off one by one—“

“And if you get caught?” Daud cuts across, his eyes flashing.

“I’ll handle it.”

“They’ll brand you as a heretic and kill you.”

“I’m _their Empress!_ ” Emily roars, clenching her fist.

“That didn’t bother Burrows and Campbell when it was your mother. You think these men care any more than they did?” Daud blinks across the room to stand directly in front of her. “You’re barely more than a child. What is a green child to the might of the overseers and a not insignificant portion of the military?”

“I have the Outsider—“

“You think he gives a shit about if you live or die? He didn’t care when Corvo died, he didn’t care when Corvo had his sword at my throat, and he didn’t care when I put my sword through Delilah’s—“

“Delilah?” Emily cuts him off. Daud shakes his head furiously.

“Doesn’t matter. If it were Corvo, maybe he would have a chance at this, but you don’t have even a year of training. You need us, you need the Whalers, and you need your Lord Protector.” Daud backs off, raking a hand through his hair. He waves his left hand, and Emily swears she sees the shape of the Mark light up, even through his heavy leather gloves.

A Whaler drops into the room, standing firmly at attention. “Take the empress to Thomas. Instruct him to find somewhere for her to spend the night.”

Emily reluctantly follows the masked assassin out of the office, down to a lower level.

.

.

.

Emily finds herself in the Void seconds after she falls asleep. At least, that’s what it feels like. As she pads across the tiled floor, she casts her gaze about. Giant whales float through the mist, their songs echoing around her.

She blinks through the space, landing silently. The scene builds around her, piece by piece the stones connect, spreading ever outward in front of her. Her mother’s favorite gazebo constructs, each white board nailing together, and then a face she hasn’t seen for seven years.

Her mother stands in front of her, holding a hand outstretched for her. Emily’s breath catches at the familiar sight of her mother. Emily begins to move forward, and suddenly the entire scene shatters, and she is standing in front of her memorial stone, positioned side by side with Corvo’s.

Emily can still see their faces. By the time of his death, Corvo had gray beginning to streak through his hair, and lines creasing ever more on his face. The deep burn scar on his cheek had begun to fade.

She can also remember the vision the Outsider showed her, the bullet hole through Corvo’s skull, his body crippled with blood forming beneath his body.

Corvo appears before her, eyes black pits and his clothes soaked through and clinging to his body. Emily lifts her chin, pushing back the familiar affection for the father she lost.

“I’m not done with them.” Emily says, knowing that this isn’t Corvo. Not really.

The Outsider’s mouth twitches. “I figured as much.” Everything collapses, and Emily is showered with freezing water as the Void disappears.

.

.

.

Emily sits up, her legs tangled in the blankets. The sun is just beginning to rise over the tops of the buildings. Thomas is mere feet away, still fully clothed and armed.

She huddles beneath the blankets, trying to calm the trembling of her fingers. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to block out the images of Corvo and her mother’s faces, trying to block out the dead.

She hears Thomas stir, and she opens her eyes to meet his watching her.

“When do we leave?” Emily asks softly, picking at a cuticle. Thomas gets to his feet and approaches her, taking her hand.

“Leave that up to Daud.” He says, crouching down so that he is face to face with her.

“I want them gone.” She mutters, scooting over on the bed and pulling Thomas to sit next to her. “Every last one of them. Everyone that killed Corvo.”

Because Corvo killed everyone that killed her mother, and now Emily will kill everyone that killed Corvo.

All of them.

And her mother’s assassin will help her, because, for some inexplicable reason, both Waverly Boyle and Corvo trusted him with control of the city.

.

.

.

The day is foggy and damp. Daud’s men have confirmed that the higher ups in the conspiracy remain at Kingsparrow Island. The vast majority of the Whalers will provide distraction enough for the Guard and Overseers to focus on them, rather than the three assassins making their way to Kingsparrow.

Emily gets Corvo’s mask settled across her face, pulling up her hood. Thomas is in full Whaler uniform, and Daud is the only one unmasked.

The Flooded District is eerily nearly empty, with only a few Whalers remaining to hold the territory. An old man in a boat waits in the deeper water, his hair fully gray and face lined.

Emily remembers him, but she dare not say anything to make her identity known.

“Got someone wearing Corvo’s old mask then?” Samuel says as Daud approaches, Emily and Thomas trailing him.

“Scare tactic.” Daud replies shortly.

“Kingsparrow Island, yeah?” Samuel’s voice is grittier than it used to be, older, more tired. Daud nods curtly, and they are quickly on their way, through the fog.

The river is still, but Emily can feel a light sprinkling of rain through her coat. “Looks like there’ll be quite a storm today.” Samuel remarks.

Daud grunts in affirmation. Emily doesn’t dare speak for fear of being recognized; she doesn’t need the entire Empire knowing that she is seeking revenge in the same way Corvo did.

The lighthouse is lit, the light making a full 360 degree sweep over the river. It was renamed after Emily’s coronation, but she never went there. Not after everything.

Samuel steers the boat up to a dock, the rain intensifying. “Be careful up there—I heard the overseers have really garrisoned up there. Not sure what for though.”

Emily is last to get out of the boat, but Samuel is quick to catch her hand before she leaves. “Be careful out there. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.” Samuel smiles kindly, and Emily realizes Samuel must have known who she was the entire time.

“I will.” Emily whispers.

.

.

.

By the time they reach the walls of the fortress, the rain has increased to a downpour, the wind beginning to pick up. Most of the walls of light and arc pylons had been powered down after the plague ended, but as a security measure, some are left running.

The main target is High Overseer Gaspar, the man pulling the strings of the operation.

.

.

.

“Once we act, they’ll call the City Watch.” Thomas says quietly.

“I’ll be able to call them off.” Emily replies, hand tightening on the hilt of her sword.

“Go on ahead. I’ll keep an eye on things down here.” Thomas motions to the lower area of the fortress.

“Come.” Daud barks, motioning for Emily to follow him.

Emily follows the red of Daud’s coat closely as the downpour turns into a maelstrom. Lightning cracks across the sky, and the rain causes her clothes to cling to her frame.

“Gaspar will be in the penthouse.” Daud speaks quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

“He’s mine.” Emily hisses, clenching her hands.

.

.

.

Emily throws the door of the lighthouse penthouse open, clenching her sword in her hand. Water drips from the ends of her coat onto the floor.

She had left Daud farther down the lighthouse to keep the Overseers and military from flanking her. 

The penthouse is empty.

She passes by the room she had been locked in as a child, the room Corvo had rescued her from. Following the hallway to the stairs and up, she finds herself on the very top of the lighthouse, the rain falling in sheets.

The tall, broad figure in the blood red coat stands before her.

She moves forward, keeping her eyes locked on him. The door behind her opens and closes, three overseers following her forward.

She braces herself against a gust of wind.

“High Overseer.” She says, her voice muffled by the mask and the wind, but she knows he can hear her.

“Empress.” All she can hear when he speaks is Burrows and Havelock and all of the men that tried to take her mother and Corvo and her power away from her.

“Stand down,” Emily commands, “and I’ll give you a quick death.”

The four men around her laugh. Emily bristles at their derision, clenching her left hand.

“Take her.” Gaspar commands, waving a hand. With a wild snarl, Emily whips around, swinging her sword at the nearest overseer. Every hour of training with Daud and Thomas comes to her, and she finds herself able to dodge and parry the overseers’ attacks.

She savagely thrusts her sword through a chest, feeling the crack of bone through the sword.

A whale breaches the water far below.

Lightning cracks across the sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder.

Emily twitches her wrist, sending a bolt from her wristbow straight through a second overseer’s throat.

She whips around, slashing out at the final overseer, opening him from neck to stomach.

Blinding pain ricochets through her head, turning her vision white for a second. The High Overseer rips her hood down and tangles his fingers in her wet hair, pulling her across the ground. He pulls her up roughly, and she feels the cold press of the barrel of a gun against her temple.

“Don’t.” She hears Thomas’s voice through the rain and the ringing in her ears.

“I’m going to shoot you, Whaler, or I’m going to shoot the empress.” Gaspar’s voice is overloud in her ears, and Emily can see the Outsider over Thomas’s shoulder, smiling.

“Help me!” She screams at the Outsider, struggling against the High Overseer’s hold. “Don’t just stand there, help me!” She yells as Thomas lifts his pistol.

The Outsider cocks his head, pointing at her. Emily feels her Mark burning. She lifts her left hand and clenches it in a fist, and suddenly the world has frozen.

With a crazed snarl, Emily rips out of the High Overseer’s hold, and as soon as she has broken contact with him, he freezes. She stares at the Outsider, who has moved to hover in the air.

Emily pulls Corvo’s gun out of its holster at her side, and she points it out the High Overseer. For a second, her hand feels warm, as if it is enclosed by Corvo’s hand once more, like he used to when she was young.

“I am your empress.” Emily growls, squeezing the trigger.

Time unfreezes, and the bullet hits the High Overseer in the chest. He stumbles and falls back over the ledge into the water far below.

Emily looks back at Thomas, and for a second, she swears it is Corvo in front of her, his familiar features sending a pang of grief through her. The vision fades, and it is Thomas, pulling off his mask. His hair is quickly soaked through and plastered to his face.

“The Watch is here. Daud is holding them off.” He says, reaching a hand out for Emily.

Emily removes Corvo’s mask, staring at it. It is a symbol of revenge, a symbol of chaos, and a symbol of death. She stares at the Outsider, still hovering in the air, silent. Taking a deep breath, Emily tosses the mask over the ledge to plummet into the water.

If she needs a mask, she can order Piero to make another.

Corvo can rest in peace, avenged.

.

.

.

“Stand down!” Emily’s voice cracks across the bottom floor of the lighthouse, where the City Watch officers have Daud cornered. She can see blood darkening the red of Daud’s coat, and she can see how he struggles for his breath.

“The assassin Daud, empress.” The present officer of the Watch speaks upon registering her presence.

“I know who he is.” Emily sneers. “He is one of mine.” She pauses, considering. “Kill any Overseer or military man who would think to harm me or any of mine.”

“Yes, empress.”

.

.

.

She does not retreat to Dunwall Tower.

Nor does she go to the Flooded District.

It is the Boyle Mansion she returns to, the place where she really learned how to be an empress.

Lydia opens the door, running her eyes first over Emily before trailing back to where Thomas supports Daud, who is still bleeding.

“My sister has the oddest taste in associates.” She pauses, “Though I suppose you can’t get better than the empress.” She steps back, motioning to a maid. “Do call Doctor Galvani. It seems he has a new patient.”

“Thank you, Lydia.” Emily smiles.

“If he wasn’t the father of that girl, I wouldn’t put up with the blood he’s going to track in.” Lydia retreats back inside, snapping to the different maids and butlers to find supplies and towels.

Emily glances back at Thomas to gauge his reaction to the news.

“Did you expect me to be surprised?” He smirks. “Honestly, do you think we don’t gossip about our master?”

.

.

.

Waverly returns to the Boyle Mansion soon after, escorted by an entourage of Whalers. She hands Viridiana off to Lydia, and proceeds to reclaim the duty of running the household.

Some time later, after Doctor Galvani is gone and Daud is patched up, Waverly joins Emily in the sitting room. She waves Thomas away, taking a seat across from Emily. “Dear, you really need to eat more.” Waverly smiles softly. A maid had given Emily clothes to wear, and they hang off her awkwardly, too large in some areas.

“I don’t know that I’ll have time to.” Emily muses, pulling her coat around her. It is the Lord Protector’s official garb, Thomas having relinquished it to her for the time being.

“Yes, I can see that you will not only be the empress but also your own Lord Protector.” Waverly remarks, brushing a stray lock away.

“It wouldn’t be proper for an empress to know such things.” Emily comments, reaching to take a sip of the warm tea.

“Yes, well, you’d certainly do a good job at fighting off assassination attempts.” Waverly examines her fingernails.

Emily feels a pang of sadness. Her mother had been unable to prevent her assassination, and neither had Corvo. “It didn’t save Corvo.”

“Corvo was indisposed at the time.” Daud’s voice comes from the doorway. He has his weight balanced against the doorframe, wrapped in bandages. “He was in the Void in his sleep. It isn’t easy to get out of that.”

“Maybe I should have two Lord Protectors.” Emily mutters.

“No, I’m better off where I am.” Daud shakes his head. “I keep this city from eating itself. Even without the plague, it is still unsteady with all the crime and gangs.”

“I’m losing grip on the other islands, aren’t I?” Emily taps her fingers on the table.

“That, my dear, can be remedied.” Waverly cuts in. “It may be time for a visit.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Emily pauses. “It’s time for me to take back control of my empire.” She remembers the word Waverly used to describe the way Corvo controlled the empire.

“I will be the puppet master.”

**Author's Note:**

> Summary and title from the song "Youth" by Daughter.
> 
> This story kind of ran away from me halfway through. I planned for it to be short, but then it got to 9000 words. It's my first venture into a longer Dishonored fic, so yeah. Please leave kudos and comments!


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